Last Sunday evening started out like any other at our house. It all changed about 7:15 p.m. our time. Multiple news organizations and journalists (at least the ones I follow on Twitter,) were imploring people to turn on the TV. President Obama was making a quickly arranged live television appearance to announce a matter of “national security”. The Dauphin was flying his radio-controlled airplane at the park; I called him and asked him to come home. If the President summons all available press to the White House, briefs Congress, and goes on the air after 10 p.m. Sunday night on the East Coast, something’s wrong.
I sat in front of our TV, stomach churning.
It took another hour to finally hear what the President had to say: Osama bin Laden was dead. We found out later that he was killed by some Navy SEALS, acting on Presidential order. I watched, dumbfounded, as a crowd gathered in front of the White House gate, waving flags, singing the national anthem, and acting like it was Super Bowl Sunday.
Let’s face it, I’m not sorry Osama bin Laden is dead. I’m sorry it took ten years for it to happen. At the same time, if I had to put any kind of label on how I feel even days later, it’s this: I’m thinking about those we lost, both on September 11th, 2001, and over the past ten years of wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan. To quote the President, I’m thinking about the thousands and thousands of empty seats at dinner tables around our country.
One of the people most profoundly affected by the events of September 11th is Kristen Breitweiser. She lost her husband in the Twin Towers collapse. She’s written a thought-provoking essay about her feelings. I hope you’ll read it.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kristen-breitweiser/today-is-not-a-day-of-cel_b_856535.html
Ten years later, now fully awake in the bright sunlight of the day, when I contemplate the definition of victory for our country when it comes to the death of Osama bin Laden, I can only think about the damage that has been done.
I think about the thousands of lives lost — American, Afghani, Iraqi. I know firsthand the sorrow those families have felt. I ponder how the billions — maybe trillions — of dollars could have been better spent. I remain alarmed about the continued expansion of absolute Executive power in the name of fighting this seemingly ongoing and never-ending “war on terror.” I worry about the further erosion of our constitutional rights. I wonder when our troops will ever be called home. I know all too well, that thousands of young American men and women soldiers will never have the opportunity to return home. And of course, I fear reprisal.
I realize Ms. Breitweiser and I are in the minority. After all, it’s time to wave the flag and chant “USA! USA!” wherever anyone will chant with us. I’m thinking, though, this is a hollow victory. Why spend even one more minute of time on someone that brought so much misery to so many people? Why not honor the memories of the lost, instead of clamoring to see the photos of his corpse, and sitting through one more news program?
Why is this considered an occasion worth celebrating?
-S
You’re not in the minority, I promise. Shakesville, including me, seem to look at this globally and the impact it’s had on everyone. Not even financially, but emotionally. There’s a lot of people looking across at each other, missing someone special, and knowing it’s out of their hands…but damage is done. And alternately, as much as he was a villain for the country, he was still part of someone’s family; and they’re going to be without a member of their family now.
It’s not a cut-and-dry happy because the world doesn’t work in absolutes. I can’t cheer. I can be thankful that those directly effected/affected will get some sense of peace but I can’t cheer on over someone’s grave. I wasn’t brought up that way. Bloodthirsty though I may be.
Comment by Hell Cat — May 7, 2011 @ 2:22 pm